One-Shots in the Caverns
by MetroidMan101
Summary: (Formerly "Partners") The story doesn't end when the caves do. Assorted one-shots set before, during, and after the events of my Cave Story novelization. Mainly focused around the three robots, but with the occasional guest star. Many of these will contain higher-than-recommended levels of fluff, reader discretion is advised!
1. Partners

**Partners**

Summary: General Miakido has claimed the Demon Crown and threatens to drive the world to ruin. Two robots have been built to stop him; this is where they first meet.

* * *

 **-Online.**

He was engulfed in nothingness, his thoughts the only definable presence. Somewhere in his head, he became aware of a faint signal.

 **-Beginning initial startup procedure.**

 **-Preparing system checks... ready.**

 **-Beginning system checks...**

 **-Internal computer online. Functioning at maximum efficiency. No errors detected.**

 **-External sensory receptors operational. No errors detected.**

 **-Engaging motor functions. No errors detected.**

 **-System checks complete. Startup ready.**

 **-ID: Scout02**

 **-Password: XXXXXXXXXX**

 **-Initiating sensory startup...**

 **-Auditory receptors online.**

There was a sudden humming on either side of his head. His first sensation of _something_ caught him by surprise, finally giving the vaguest idea that the empty void had an exit.

 **-Olfactory receptors online.**

Then he became aware of a smell nearby. Fresh air wafted over him, as well as a metallic scent.

 **-Kinesthetic receptors online.**

The biggest surprise yet came after that. He didn't feel anything more specific than a mild coolness all over his body, but the important part was that he _could_ feel anything. After a moment he realized his back was against something solid.

 **-Gustatory receptors online.**

There was a strange sensation in his face. It was the first time that he felt aware of his own tongue, resting against the bottom of his mouth.

 **-Visual receptors online.**

And finally his eyes opened. He was in a white room, lights beaming onto his face and body from multiple angles. Other people were also there, all staring into his eyes while their own shone in wonder and amazement. Turning his neck ever so slightly, he looked over the various engineers and scientists without a word.

"It's a boy!" someone laughed to his right. The middle-aged, pale man was in charge of the others by the looks of it. He strolled to the side of the table, looking down at the robot.

"Welcome to the world, 02! How do you feel?"

So that was his name. He took a moment to let it sink in before replying.

"I'm... fine."

At his first words, several of the researchers attending to him gasped and muttered to each other. They all seemed to be satisfied.

"Fine? Good, that's good. Do you know what you have to do?"

Now that he thought about it, yes he did. Images of a floating island and a dark blue crown with a red eye-gem on the front appeared in his mind as clear as could be.

"Destroy... the artifact," he finally said.

The man's grin widened, and the people behind him broke out into further chattering. He held up a hand, silencing them just as quickly.

"That's right. The world's in danger, 02, and we need you to destroy the Demon Crown before General Miakido uses it to begin his attack."

He sat upright on the table, ignoring the alarmed gasps from the researchers. It was then that he realized he was dressed only in simple black undergarments- not the most appropriate attire for a battle.

"Ha ha ha! Eager to get up, I see! How does your body feel? Are you used to it yet?"

"Yes."

The lead scientist chuckled again.

"You aren't much of a talker, huh? 01 was a chatterbox from the moment we activated her, so this is a surprise."

He blinked at the mention of that name. Somewhere in his head, it was registered as the identity of someone important, but he couldn't seem to figure out how.

"01?"

"Oh, you won't be alone on this mission. There's another robot just- well, _almost_ like you a few rooms over. We built the pair of you to be a team, but you might've realized you don't know anything specific about her."

Once again, that was true. His inner computer recognized 01 as his partner, but aside from that he knew nothing regarding the other robot.

"We figured," the man continued, "that the best way to have you two work together was to let you develop your own bonds, so to speak, rather than just program them into you. You and 01 aren't like other soldier robots- you have much greater potential in you. The pair of you are, in most regards, very similar to humans."

02's mind had wandered during the scientist's explanation. He was back to thinking about the mission at hand.

"Where is my equipment?"

The man's smile twitched, lessening slightly when it became clear that 02 wasn't particularly engaged.

"Straight to the point, I see. That's... fine. I'm sure that attitude will serve you well during the mission. Now then, we're still finishing up your transport to the floating island, so you'll just need to wait a bit longer. In the meantime, you can visit the armory we've put together for you and 01. We have more than just weapons available, there's even an assortment of clothes for you to try on."

02 raised a brow at the description.

"...try on? As in, choose for myself?"

Some of the researchers were murmuring to one another in questioning tones. They didn't seem to dampen the project head's mood, as he merely grinned wider.

"Of course! You're not just some mass-produced factory drone. The pair of you are advancements in technology like nothing the world has seen before! It's important for you to stand out as individuals. In fact, we're hoping you and 01 will come up with different names for yourselves."

This was all very confusing to 02, but he decided against commenting further. He stood up from the table, feeling his legs adjust to carrying his weight as the researchers continued to inspect his progress.

"01 is inside already, so we'll let you go in and say hello now," the head remarked. "But... perhaps you _should_ cover up a bit more. It wouldn't make for a good first impression, now would it?"

Still not entirely sure what the significance was, he simply nodded and slid into a light black tank top and red pants and boots provided by the scientists. Now sufficiently clothed by their standards, he was allowed to leave the white-tiled room and take his first steps into the world.

He had no trouble walking, being built for much more than that, but it still took him some getting used to. There were so many sensations entering his mind at once, it was difficult to focus on a single one in particular. His mission, naturally, took the highest priority, but even he found the sensory overload distracting from it.

 _"My first objective... I should meet 01, like they suggested."_

Finding the armory wasn't difficult, as it was clearly labeled among the other branching rooms in the hallway. He pushed open the gray-painted door and stepped inside, already thinking about what he would equip himself with.

There weren't as many weapons on display as he'd expected. The small room had just one wall and a few shelves dedicated to them, with the rest of the space occupied by racks of assorted clothes and accessories. In the midst of them stood another person, her skin the same pure white as his.

"Hm? Oh, I didn't see you there! What's up?"

Her lighter blue eyes looked him over for a moment, then a grin spread onto her face. She was dressed in a pink tank top, as well as maroon pants not unlike his. Her golden hair was covered by a red hat, which she constantly adjusted as she looked herself over in a mirror.

"Are you 01?"

"Yep, that's me! You must be the guy I'm doing this mission with. 02, right? It's so nice to meet you!"

His expression remained blank, the proper way to continue this conversation unclear to him. 01 didn't appear to mind, and even approached him with that unwavering grin still bright.

"Here, why don't you try this?"

Still at a loss for words, 02 allowed her to push the hat into his hands without argument. Looking closer at it, he noticed there was a word on the silver plate at its front: "Quote."

"No matter what I do, it just doesn't look good on me," 01 was saying. "But maybe it'll fit you better!"

"Have you found your equipment yet?"

He wasn't especially interested in fashion, and had already turned his gaze back to the weapons display. Handguns, semi-automatics, shotguns, and other firearms awaited their selection.

"Yeah! I picked that red gun in the corner."

His eyes shifted to the indicated spot, identifying 01's chosen weapon as a machine gun. Inwardly he began to plan around that. If she was going to handle a rapid-fire weapon, perhaps it would be better for him to choose one with a different rate-

"...so anyway, aren't you gonna try the hat on?"

She was still smiling at him. 02 could tell that she wouldn't take no for an answer, and obliged by sliding it on over his black hair. Her face only lit up even more after a moment of staring at him.

"Yeah... yeah! That looks great on you!"

Seeing himself in the mirror caused a feeling he didn't quite understand to come over him. The hat, throwing just a slight amount of shade over his navy-blue eyes, did indeed appear to fit with the rest of his outfit. 01 was right at his side, also peering at his reflection.

"Lookin' sharp... quote? Quote! I know, what if I call you that?"

The feeling grew stronger. It was like 02 became more aware of himself in that moment, more confident that he would succeed, all from something as simple as a name. Thinking it over, the tiniest of smiles found its way onto his face.

"...it has a nice ring to it."

"Aha! So he _can_ emote!" 01 joked, beaming at him. "Now I need a name too. I think it's fair if you get to decide that."

Suddenly her cheerful expression faltered into a more bashful one.

"Just, uh, nothing too silly, please?"

Quote didn't know what that was supposed to mean, and he was even less sure on what to call her.

"I'll think of something," he said after a moment of fruitless consideration.

They continued to peruse the clothes on display, or rather 01 did while occasionally tossing him an accessory or two. Quote himself just went along with it, obliging her by trying on some of the items she'd throw over her shoulder. After a while he settled for a basic green scarf, if only because she seemed so happy to see him wearing it.

"Oh yeah, _that's_ a good look for you," she remarked. "None of these hats really suit me, so I might just go without one. What do you think?"

"Whatever you say, Curly."

"...what?"

He blinked. 01 was giving him a questioning look, like she didn't quite get what he said.

"If you don't want a hat, don't wear one," Quote said. "I'm not the judge of-"

"No no no, not _that_. What you said after! What did you call me?"

What _did_ he call her? He'd spoken without much thought, and the words had just slipped out of his mouth before he could process them. Pursing his lips, he tried to remember.

"Uh, it was..."

To his surprise, recalling it wasn't difficult. In fact, it came to him almost naturally, as if he'd always known it.

"...Curly," he said aloud. "Curly Brace?"

01's eyes widened.

"What? Like the key?"

Quote didn't know why, but a pleasant feeling spread through his chest as he thought harder about it.

"It's your name. I've decided to call you that."

Her cheeks tinged a light pink, and she giggled at him.

"R-really? Okay, if you want... heh, I kinda like it!"

He smiled at her, his partners for the upcoming trials. Curly's beaming expression met his, and within Quote's computer she was registered as his closest ally.

"Scouts 01 and 02," a voice announced over an overhead loudspeaker, "please proceed to the briefing room. It is almost time for you to depart."

"We'd better let them know about our new names," she laughed. "C'mon, Quote! Let's not keep 'em waiting."

He nodded wordlessly, his attention brought back to the mission at hand. There were more important things than names to be focused on, after all. Once he'd finished arming himself, he followed her out of the room and down the hallway, more than ready to take on the task.

It was very subtle, but just being near Curly gave him the faintest sense of enjoyment somewhere in his mind.


	2. Breakfast

**Breakfast**

Summary: Quote wants to do show his gratitude to Curly, even if it's in a small way. How well does it go?

Massive amounts of fluff inbound!

* * *

It could have been due to his long adventure in the island's darkened caves, but Quote was always fond of the morning. He enjoyed the tranquility of it, the quiet atmosphere before another hectic day- and with eight people in the new house, _every_ day was hectic. The sunrise shone through his room's window at just the right angle for him to appreciate the view without his photoreceptors being blinded.

Speaking of the view, unquestionably his favorite part of the morning was the ray of sunshine curled up in his arms.

He always woke up around a half hour before Curly. The sight of her contentedly slumbering beside him, head nodded against his chest, was worth all his trials a thousand times over. Their new life on the island's surface was hardly quiet, but it was peaceful. He had her to thank for it, he realized; it was she who first suggested they remain together as far back as the Labyrinth. She who gave him a sense of real purpose with the battles won. She who had drawn out and captured his rhetorical heart.

On this particular morning, Quote decided he wanted to do more for her as a sign of his appreciation. Though reluctant, he got out of bed (taking care to tuck the blanket over her) and left their room, descending toward the house's kitchen. He was about to try something he'd never once considered doing.

Malco was there already, preparing the Colon's meals for the day like normal. For an analysis robot he was a surprisingly adept cook, expertly dividing flowers into appropriate helpings in separate containers for each Mimiga. The children themselves, apparently still asleep, would be receiving a "special" treat today; Quote noticed him slipping dandelions into the mix. A favorite of theirs, he'd recently learned.

" **Quote? Good morning, you're up earlier than usual. Any reason?"**

"I want to make breakfast for Curly," he declared in a tone that was exceedingly matter-of-fact even for him.

" **That's… new,"** Malco beeped, sounding mildly confused. " **What will you be making?"**

He opened his mouth to reply, but found no words came out. Already he'd reached a roadblock: what would she want?

"…"

Quote approached the refrigerator. It was kept well-stocked with human food for whenever the Sakamotos visited (none of the house's residents, strictly speaking, needed to eat save for the Colons), so there was bound to be something she'd at least tolerate. He looked over his options: a carton of eggs, cheese, bread, and a few slices of ham. Nothing else in there seemed "breakfast-worthy," so he only picked those and set them on the counter beside Malco's floral concoction.

Roadblock number two: he had no idea how to cook.

He didn't need to eat, and it wasn't part of his programming as a former soldier. Meal preparation wasn't something he'd ever had to do.

"What can I do with this…?"

" **I may have recipes for those ingredients in my data banks. If you'd like, I can send you them."  
**  
A part of him wanted to do this alone, but he obviously wouldn't get very far without help. Giving the briefest of sighs, he nodded.

Twenty or so minutes later, Quote had come to realize he _really_ had no idea how to cook.

The process was messy, even with Malco's help. Cracking eggs without the shells shattering in his palms was apparently an art too complex for him to master, and the less said about his attempt at melting cheese the better. He discovered neither the ham nor bread reacted well to what he thought was a moderate toasting temperature, which wound up turning them just a bit blacker than what seemed normal. When the ordeal was over, he stared dejectedly at his pathetic would-be sandwich (more realistically, a jumble of misshapen ingredients between two thin slices of crispy bread) and wondered if it was even worth presenting this… thing to Curly.

"…this was a terrible idea," he mumbled, holding the plate with his monstrous creation at arm's length as if it were radioactive.

" **I'm sure she won't mind. It looks edible, for your first attempt,"** Malco said unhelpfully.

Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, but his legs carried him back up the stairs to his room. The beast emitted a smell he lacked the words to describe, and he half suspected that alone would be enough of a warning sign for her.

Curly was awake, sitting up in bed and looking at him with a smile.

"Mornin'! What've you got there?"

His first instinct was to answer "garbage," but it was surprisingly difficult to say much of anything. Instead he responded with a very quiet "breakfast."

She gave him a quizzical look, then peered at what to her must have resembled a decaying wooden slab.

"Breakfast…?"

"I… made this. For you," he somehow managed to force out. "Just- just to say thank you, for everything. It didn't come out well."

Her smile returned, and her cheeks flushed. She patted his side of the bed, beckoning him to come closer.

"Quote, that's so sweet of you! Bring it here, I wanna try."

He did as requested, handing Curly the plate and sitting next to her. A shiver passed over him when she picked up the sandwich and took a bite. It felt to him like he'd just given her lethal poison.

"…hm."

She had no expression as she slowly chewed, appearing to evaluate the taste. After an eternity she finally swallowed and turning to look right at him. Somehow, Quote could already tell what she was going to say.

"I know, it isn't good," he said quietly.

To his surprise, however, Curly began to giggle.

"Well… no, it isn't. The bread's burnt, the egg's leaking out the sides, and I think there's a whole cow's worth of cheese in here. It totally overpowers the rest of it."

He cast his eyes downwards, utter shame coursing through him until she lifted his chin so their gazes met.

"…but that's okay. I don't care about that. You took the time to make this for me, and I probably wouldn't have done any better myself. It's the thought that counts, you know?"

Curly pulled him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. Both alarmed and touched at her understanding, he put an arm around her as well.

"I don't deserve you," he chuckled.

"Shush. I'm busy thinking of how I should return the favor. What do you want?"

Quote closed his eyes, tightening his grip around her back. Even after his disastrous attempt at a gift, she didn't hold it against him in the slightest.

"…I have you," he said. "I don't need anything else."


	3. The Little Critter That Could

**The Little Critter That Could**

Summary: Curly finds a new friend in an unlikely creature.

* * *

The Bushlands, Curly had to admit, were much nicer than she'd expected.

Malco was there on a standard supply run to Team 9's outpost, and having never been to the region herself she'd volunteered to accompany him. He didn't really need her help, but did mention the array of local flora that could perhaps add some variety to the Colons' meals. That was how she found herself wandering the outskirts of the old base, collecting assorted plants and flowers as she went. Not the most amazing task, but there was something about the mindlessness of it she enjoyed, similar to Malco's fondness for running simple probability equations in his head when unoccupied.

She was kneeling to pick a few stray dandelions when she heard a rustle in the bushes behind her. Malco wouldn't just sneak up on her unannounced, so she jumped to her feet with her hand straying toward Nemesis.

"Who's there?"

Nobody replied, but she got her answer when a Critter hopped out from the shrubbery. It rested its green, blob-like body on the ground a few yards away, not seeming to pay any attention to Curly. The creature pulled up a few weeds, absentmindedly chewing them before looking for another food source.

Though still wary of the Critter- Malco had warned her they were territorial creatures- she didn't draw her weapon on it. After all, it didn't seem interested in attacking her as it hungrily chewed on the vegetation, hopping back and forth between each small meal. She found herself smiling; it was sort of cute.

"Hey, little guy!"

Curly's shout drew its attention, and for the first time it appeared on-edge with her around. It puffed its body up to look bigger, focusing its beady black eyes on her and emitting a soft hiss. She took a step back in case it charged, but the Critter didn't make any further hostile gestures.

"Sorry for scaring you. Are you hungry?"

She reached into her basket of collected plants and tossed it a few flowers with white petals she couldn't remember the names of. The Critter's body deflated a bit, and it gave her a look that could almost be described as questioning. Curly took another step back to reassure it, at which point it scooped the flowers into its mouth like the other plants.

"It's our little secret," she said, giving it a wink as it chewed her gift.

She noticed Malco was trying to contact her and allowed her receptors to accept the message.

" **Curly! I'm done here, so I'm heading back through the teleporter now. Where are you?"**

"On my way back, don't worry. I've got some stuff the Colons might like."

" **Good to know. Malco out."**

He ceased his transmission, leaving her alone with the Critter again. It was still contentedly eating the flowers, but was staring at Curly with the same bemused expression. She offered it one last grin, then began the walk back to Team 9's outpost and the teleporter. As much as she wanted to toss it more plants, she had four hungry Mimiga to feed.

* * *

A few days later, Curly was in the Bushlands again. The Colons had enjoyed what she found, so much so that they ran out faster than expected. It wasn't a serious concern, given how abundant the plant life was in the Bushlands, and she'd enjoyed her first visit enough to want to go back anyway. Her thoughts fell on the Critter she'd met, bringing a smile to her face as she surveyed the area for more suitable plants.

"Miss Brace? Fancy meeting you here…"

She flinched at the reptilian voice and looked up. Cthulhu was there, shuffling through the nearby weeds with his hood over his eyes as usual. It had been months since she last saw him- just after killing Ballos and saving the island- but she'd never forgotten the way his mere presence made her skin crawl.

"Hey, Cthulhu," she said, giving him a smile. He was more than a little creepy, but ultimately meant no harm. No reason to be rude, she figured. "How've you been? Have you seen Misery lately?"

"About as well as usual," he replied, not really answering the question yet clearly unwilling to elaborate. "And no, I don't know where she is; I've been wandering the island yet our paths have never crossed. We don't spend much time together, so it's always been, so it always shall be. What brings _you_ here, Miss Brace?"

She held up the half-filled basket of plants.

"I'm collecting food for my Mimiga kids."

Cthulhu chuckled.

"Ah, is that right? Do be wary of how much you take, you could attract unwanted attention from the locals…"

As if in response to that, there was a rustle in the shrubs near the mage's feet. Curly drew Nemesis, while he didn't seem particularly concerned and leered down at the disturbance.

"What's this? A lone Critter, so close to us intruders…"

He was right; a green blob of a creature emerged from the tall grass and boldly hissed at him. Cthulhu's toothy grin widened.

"You're a brave little thing, aren't you? Perhaps you mean to attack us, a mage and a soldier robot? Your chances aren't good, you know."

Curly was ready to fire on the Critter, when a realization struck her.

"No way, it couldn't be…"

She whistled to attract its attention, then threw a single flower at the ground in front of it. Upon seeing Curly, its defensive hissing stopped and it happily began to eat the offering. Cthulhu hummed.

"How curious. I've never seen one of these so easily dissuaded from attacking an intruder to its territory."

"I met this little guy a few days ago!" she exclaimed, beaming at the small creature. "I gave him a few treats, then he didn't try to attack me. I can't believe I found him again."

"Food _is_ a powerful motivator. Perhaps he came here looking for you specifically?"

The Critter hopped closer, eagerly staring at her basket. She knelt in front of him (she was _pretty_ sure it was male) and set another handful of flowers on the ground. Within moments he had wolfed them down and happily squeaked. This was too much; he was adorable.

Curly dared to reach out and pet the Critter, which didn't recoil from her touch and allowed her to gently rub the top of his head. He felt most comparable to smooth clay; not as hard as Balrog's outer shell but not as soft as Mimiga fur. As she continued to pet him, she swore the Critter even nuzzled against her hand.

"You surprise me with our every encounter," Cthulhu chuckled. "I'll give the pair of you some space for now; if you have any need of me, I shall linger here in the Bushlands for the next few days. Farewell."

He disappeared from sight, then the two were alone. She continued to pet him until a concerned transmission from Malco came in, asking what was taking her so long. Curly was forced to leave a second time, but she knew she'd be coming back soon enough.

* * *

For her third visit, Curly brought a much larger basket. The benefits of this were twofold: she could bring back more food for the Colons, and the more time it took her to collect plants the more time she could hopefully spend with her new friend. As it was, she'd already found more than enough food in a short time but the Critter was nowhere to be seen. Curly whistled and called for him, to no avail.

Just as she was beginning to feel disappointed by his absence, the familiar rustle in the shrubbery came from behind her. She turned, expecting to see the little green blob, and was promptly slammed by a tackle from something much larger. One of the big Critters had noticed her, somehow managing to sneak up on Curly. It snarled and glared at her between bites of the contents from her dropped basket.

She was about to draw Nemesis and teach it a lesson when she realized she'd dropped it in the impact. As if that wasn't bad enough, the Critter was _sitting_ on it. The weapon wasn't in any risk of damage thanks to its magical enhancements, but without it Curly was unarmed- and the creature noticed that. It advanced on her one hop at a time, still growling.

" _Crap… maybe I can lure it further, then work my way around it to-"_

Before she even had a chance to finish coming up with a plan, the large beast sprang at her with its mouth wide open. Something interrupted it mid-jump, however, slamming into its side from out of nowhere. A green Critter, barely half the blue one's size, was sitting between it and Curly, fiercely hissing in warning.

"L-little buddy?!"

The blue one clearly wasn't intimidated and tried to leap over him, but the determined little Critter once again acted in defense of Curly, bashing into it from below. Unfortunately, his timing resulted in his much larger foe landing right on top of him. The green Critter gave a pained squeal that sawed Curly's heartstrings in half. Enraged, she used the opening she'd been given to dart around her enemy's flank and pick up Nemesis. The blue Critter jumped for her again, only to be put down with three well-placed shots. It vanished into dust shortly after, leaving Curly to rush to her injured friend on the ground. He looked pitiful, having been partially crushed and making a continuous whimpering noise.

"Oh no… o-oh no…"

"I thought I heard a disturbance," a familiar voice hissed from nearby. "Are you all right, Miss Brace?"

Struggling to stay composed, she looked at Cthulhu as he approached and pointed to the wounded creature before her.

"P-please, help him! He tried to protect me from a bigger one, and… and…"

The mage quirked a scaly brow at her, but pointed a hand in his direction.

"Healing magic is hardly my specialty… I shall do my best."

As the Critter continued to pitifully wheeze, Curly could only hold her breath.

* * *

The sun was setting. Quote frowned; they'd expected Curly to return twenty minutes earlier. Malco didn't report anything wrong based on her vitals, yet she hadn't responded to his attempt at contacting her. Feeling increasingly worried, he grabbed Spur and stepped toward the teleporter, intent on finding out what was wrong.

He needn't have bothered, as just a moment later the device whirred to life and Curly stepped out. When he saw what she was carrying, he froze in his tracks. In one hand, the basket filled to the brim with plants. In the other, a small, green Critter nestled in her arm, nuzzling her with the top of its head.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, as if that was anywhere _near_ his number one question at the moment. "Can you please get the door for me? Poofy here could use a tour of the house."

Quote was, even more so than usual, speechless.


	4. Bridges Burned

**Bridges Burned**

Summary: A short chronicling of how the mage family dwindled. Told mostly through Cthulhu's perspective.

* * *

Their relationship, in hindsight, had started as it meant to go on.

Cthulhu didn't remember much about the day he first met his cousin (having been very young at the time), but the most important detail of the encounter remained fresh in his mind. Barely three minutes after his father had introduced him to "Auntie Jenka" and her daughter, the latter struck him with a weak jolt of electricity. She hadn't caused him any serious harm, and his father always insisted it was an accident; she wasn't much older than him, so her own magical power was still developing. That may have been true, but he never forgot the sting of the unprovoked attack, nor the delighted giggling of his cousin as he cried.

Tellingly, Misery had never apologized for it. And that was among the _better_ interactions they would have.

* * *

Adolescence brought with it many changes. In Cthulhu's case, he became increasingly restless without any ways to occupy himself. Having grown out of the hobbies he'd enjoyed in his younger years, and with virtually no friends (the few great mage families remaining lived apart from one another), boredom was inevitable.

In an effort to help him, his parents had suggested he turn to art as a pastime. With so many forms of it and so many means by which to express himself, his mother insisted, he was bound to enjoy at least one of them. His father shared her enthusiasm for the idea, though Cthulhu knew he had another reason to encourage this.

As they heard more and more from her mother, Misery was developing quite the knack for art herself. It didn't take a genius to deduce his father hoped Cthulhu would finally have something to bond with her over, after years of increasingly tense family meetings and mounting resentment between the cousins. He got along very well with his Auntie Jenka, and had her husband not passed on when Cthulhu was too young to remember him, they might have shared a similar bond. From what he could tell, Misery had a perfectly fine relationship with _his_ parents, meaning the only rift in their family was between the two of them.

He was in no hurry to do anything involving his cousin, but without many other methods to keep himself busy Cthulhu agreed to take up art. And, truth be told, he enjoyed it. He found himself enthralled with sculpting, and drawing above all, to the point that after a few months his various small creations were strewn about his home.

This hobby didn't get him closer to Misery as his father had hoped, but he appeared to concede that finding something Cthulhu could put his heart into at last was good enough.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

He winced. She was leaning over his shoulder, knowing full well he hated it when she stood too close to him. Sitting in the shade of his favorite tree, wearing the comfortable green hooded robe he'd made for himself, Cthulhu had hoped to spend the evening uninterrupted.

"Drawing," he grunted. He knew better than to ignore her, as it would only pique her interest further. But hopefully a truthful yet brief answer would cause Misery to grow bored of him and move on to something else.

"Drawing… what?"

Or not. He didn't need his growing powers of foresight to predict that this wouldn't end well.

"A monster."

Cthulhu, against his better judgement, leaned back a bit to show her his parchment. He'd spent the last hour or so drawing with a piece of charcoal, and his first product was a humanoid figure with reptilian scales and pointed claws. It looked a bit rough, but he was proud of it, especially of the wide, menacing eyes beneath the hood it wore. Something about the design was striking in his opinion.

Misery peered at it, lips pursed.

"Not bad, not bad. Mind if I give it a try?"

He narrowed his eyes. She almost _never_ complimented him on anything; what was she up to?

"I just want to draw something," she insisted, clearly sensing his suspicion.

Though still wary, he handed Misery a spare sheet of parchment and the charcoal he'd been using. She sat down on the other side of the tree, out of his view. For a few minutes, the only sound he could hear was her scratching away at the sheet.

"…done!"

Cthulhu sat up straight while she came back around to him. She put down the charcoal and cleaned her hands off with a small burst of magically-generated steam, handing him the parchment.

"By the way, Uncle Ballos says it's almost time for dinner. You should probably come back soon."

She warped out of sight, leaving him alone in the early sunset. Raising a brow, he looked at what she'd drawn.

It was another humanoid monster, sleek and elegant in its design. The beast had a smoothly curved head and a flattened, beak-like mouth. Its arms ended in short talons, clasped together in a meditative fashion. Most notable about it was the robe it wore, flowing behind it like a veil in the breeze. It was a beautiful drawing, despite being of an odd creature.

Cthulhu pulled his hood over his eyes and slumped his head onto the parchment. He wished she would have just set fire to his drawing; the message might have stung less in that case.

* * *

All burned.

He stumbled amidst desolate ruins, dispelling the fires in his path as he went forward in a blind panic. The forests, the fields, the _people_ ; all in the kingdom had been utterly decimated.

It began when a group of knights bearing the King's crest arrived at their home weeks earlier and rather harshly barked for Cthulhu's father to go with them. Their visit was unexpected, and at the time he didn't understand the significance. His mother, who seemed irrationally worried, pleaded for him not to leave, yet he did anyway, bidding farewell to his family for the time being. They heard nothing of him after that, and even the common citizens grew restless in his absence; Ballos was by all accounts a hero to the populace.

But now… it was gone. All of it. Everywhere he looked, he was met with death and destruction. Most of the kingdom had been wiped away in an instant after the initial blast. Among those lost was his mother, who had sensed the impending magical surge a split second before he did and put all of her power into shielding him from the shockwave.

Fresh tears streamed from his eyes. There wasn't even a body left to bury.

"Cthulhu! Hey, over here!"

Through his blurred vision, he spotted someone else in the fiery ruins. It was Jenka, who for the first time in as long as he'd known her didn't have the same warm smile he was used to. Quite the contrary, she looked genuinely shaken and disturbed- she looked _old._

She continued to survey the environment while he rushed to join her.

"You're okay," he said, his voice feeling hollow in his throat. "What _happened?!_ "

Jenka's fists were clenched.

"Ballos has been tortured ever since he was taken away. I heard about it down the grapevine from the King's court, and it looks like he snapped."

For a moment he thought his heart had stopped. No, that _couldn't_ be right. His father was the guardian of the kingdom, loved by all he met!

"T… tortured…? But why?! What did he ever do wrong?!"

"Nothing. And that's just it. The people liked him too much, and the King became jealous," she snarled. "He started to fear there would be a revolt against him, so he decided to get Ballos out of the way."

Cthulhu's mouth flapped uselessly, attempting to force out some sort of response to that. It was too horrible to imagine.

"Clearly it didn't work," she continued, "and now he's taught all the 'wretched humans' a lesson. At least, that's what my daughter thinks."

His brain refused to process that thought. None of it made any sense! His father adored those he protected; could he really have lost control _that_ much and wiped them all out, when only a few had wronged him?

There was so much more he wanted to ask, but Cthulhu eventually settled on just one question.

"Where _is_ Misery?"

Jenka folded her arms, looking to the distance.

"Once this all began, I told her to go looking for you and Hera."

"My… my mother's…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. Jenka's weary look sank even lower, and it only just occurred to him that she looked more than just mentally exhausted. It seemed to take her every scrap of energy she had just to stand.

"Where have you been?" he dared to ask.

She took a few seconds to reply.

"I had to put a stop to Ballos' rampage. It wasn't easy, but I've managed to seal him away beneath the kingdom. I… couldn't do more than that…"

Her eyes filled with tears, which she hastily wiped away.

"This won't be enough, though. His madness can't be kept anywhere near the rest of the world. I have a plan to deal with that, but in the meantime I need you to find Misery and make sure she's safe. "

His mother was gone, and his father was likely so deranged he could no longer recognize Cthulhu. With the other mage families too terrified of the outburst to come anywhere near their location, the only people he had left were his aunt and his cousin. In that moment, he was willing to let all past transgressions go and forge a stronger bond with Misery. He steeled his courage, nodded, and disappeared from the ruined village. To stay with those he had left, he would adapt at any cost. He couldn't stand the thought of being completely alone.

Little did he realize that fate wouldn't be satisfied until it had torn one final, definitive rift in the dwindling family. What he found, once he'd caught up to his cousin just outside the chamber his father was sealed in, both mortified and infuriated him.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he hissed.

She held some kind of deep blue object with metallic gray linings. On closer inspection, it was a crown- albeit an unsightly, rectangular one. That wasn't what concerned him; it was the snaking trail of red magic phasing through the sealed chamber's door and pouring into an indentation in the crown's frontal plating.

"What does it look like?" Misery replied, as calmly as she would discuss the weather. "I'm putting Ballos' power to good use."

He stared wide-eyed at the object, already sensing the raw, chaotic energy coursing within it. The same energy which had just a few hours earlier snuffed out hundreds of innocent lives. The same energy which had taken his mother from him.

Cthulhu didn't realize for a few seconds that he was clenching his fists hard enough to dig his nails into his skin.

"How can you do this?! He killed so many people, so many _bystanders_ who did nothing wrong, and you're going to try and take that power for yourself? Do you think he wanted to do that?!"

Misery shrugged.

"It doesn't really matter. What happened, happened. And since he's not going to need all that energy while he's stuck in here, we might as well take some of it. You'll have to make your own crown, though. I'm sure by the time I'm done there'll be enough left for a half-decent one."

"Shut up."

She noticeably flinched, turning to him with a look of near incredulity at what he'd said.

"…excuse me?"

"SHUT. UP."

Cthulhu was trembling, filled with a greater anger than he'd ever felt before. His life, and the life his father had cherished, were brought to a cataclysmic end by an untamed fury. Nearly all caught in its path were dead, most of whom hardly deserved such a terrible fate. And here his cousin was, attempting to harness the power which had spawned such a tragedy for her own means.

This was the final straw.

"Is that all you care about?" he hissed. "Being _above_ those around you? Are you so averse to morality that even the innocent lives lost don't mean anything to you, Misery?!"

She turned to face him fully, going so far as to set the crown on the floor while it continued absorbing Ballos' power.

"This upsets you," she said with a quirk of her brow, "quite a bit. I don't think you've ever stood up to me for anything before."

He growled.

"I won't let you cause any further harm. I _won't_."

Misery's questioning stare split apart as she broke out laughing.

"Is that right? You want to take me on? Ha ha ha ha! Think _you_ can stop me, do you?"

Cthulhu let his magic flare up in preparation for battle. She was underestimating him; he could pack more of a punch in combat than she realized. All that remained to be seen was whether or not it would be enough to take her down. He had to try.

"What else do I have to lose?" he challenged.

He lunged for her, but the world disappeared around him before he could close the distance. When his surroundings came back into focus, he felt the chill of a harsh wind blow through his robe. He was at the top of a mountain, the highest in the kingdom. From there, he could see the devastation his father had wrought stretch for miles in every direction. Ash from the fires even managed to reach that high up, bringing with it a smoldering stench.

"Let's find out," Misery said, appearing behind him. "We've got the place to ourselves now. Come, and let me introduce you to the ground."

Cthulhu brought up one hand in a slashing motion with his fingers curled like claws. The air before him rippled, then five thin waves of dark energy materialized and flew at Misery. She responded by disappearing on the spot and letting them streak past before reappearing in midair just above where she'd been.

"This is going to be fun~"

He didn't let up on his assault, slicing more dark magic blades at her. Though she easily weaved her way around the side of each wave, she never fought back, and the cocky smirk never left her face. Soon enough, the frequency of her dodges was almost rhythmic, with her putting very little effort into it.

Cthulhu moved his arm up for another slash, but rather than follow through with a direct attack he instead broke off its direction at the last second, shooting the blades just to the left of where he'd feinted. Misery had gotten accustomed to dodging his attacks side to side, and couldn't see his trick coming in time to adjust her movements. The blades grazed her side, tearing through her robes and leaving several thin red lines against her pale skin. Before she had a chance to process the hit, Cthulhu thrust his open palm forward. A cluster of magic energy condensed and exploded in her face, releasing a shower of green sparks. She was knocked backwards but otherwise didn't suffer any damage significant enough to give him the advantage. Misery landed gracefully on the mountaintop, her feet dragging short lines through the ever-falling ashes.

"So you're not as hopeless as I thought," she said, wincing a bit from the cuts he'd given her.

Cthulhu pushed some of his jet-black hair out of his eyes and felt a grin come to his face while hers was gone.

"Maybe that wasn't enough to seriously harm you, but it felt delightful."

"Working through some long-standing grudges, are you? Don't get your hopes up!"

She pointed two fingers from each hand at him, raking them before her in an x shape. The ash around the pair collected in front of Misery and condensed into several dozen tiny needles which flew at Cthulhu all at once. Though he reacted fast enough to dispel most of them by snapping his fingers and creating a strong air burst which knocked the projectiles astray, several of them landed unimpeded, digging into his forearm through his sleeve. Their intended target was his face, and while he had protected himself by covering it with said arm, the split second of distraction due to the pain was all Misery needed.

In an instant she was on the offensive, pummeling him with repeated lightning strikes that he had to put all his attention into shielding himself from. Using only one hand to cast protective barriers only served to ward off her attacks for a few moments, and before long he had taken a bolt to the same shoulder as his wounded arm.

 _"_ _She's toying with me,"_ Cthulhu realized. _"She's BEEN toying with me. She can end this whenever she wants."_

But he couldn't give up just yet. He forced himself to ignore the agony in his right arm, using his good hand to kick up a cloud of ash in her face while she gloated over her successful hit. It would only buy him a second or two, so he had to move quickly. Cthulhu sprang into the air and clenched a fist, flying toward her for a physical strike. Surely up close, where Misery was unfamiliar in combat, he would be able to surprise and overwhelm her. The ash cloud would be dispelled in seconds, but by then he'd be too close for her to respond in time.

Yet as he closed the distance, his impromptu cover didn't get blown away as he'd expected. Cthulhu landed in the midst of it, his fist creating a noticeable indentation in the grass below and sending a tremor up his good arm. She wasn't there, which left _him_ blind and vulnerable. No sooner had he realized this before his hood was suddenly yanked down over his eyes and something hard struck him in the head. The ground disappeared below his feet, then he was flipped over and _dragged_ face-down through the ash and dirt. Misery's display of humiliation ended by tossing him gracelessly onto his back and delivering a crushing stomp to his gut. He lay there, sputtering for breath, wondering how he could have deluded himself into thinking he ever stood a chance.

"Sorry, Cthulhu," she chuckled, keeping her foot on him. "But you should've just accepted that I've always been better than you. Since you did manage to get a few lucky shots, I'd say you at least deserve to see my new power firsthand. Before that… I think you need a new look."

He didn't see what she was doing, but he felt his body begin to convulse. There was no pain, only an immense discomfort as his structure rearranged. Suddenly he was taller, lankier, and his teeth grew unnaturally sharp. His tanned skin seemed to evaporate, replaced by something hard and rough which caused no small amount of discomfort. Scales. When the procedure was finished after barely ten seconds, he felt nothing short of repulsed.

"Look at that! Now you're just like your drawing from so many years ago!" Misery howled.

Her foot lifted from his stomach, and he attempted to stand up. This proved nigh impossible, as his unfamiliarity with his own body caused Cthulhu to stumble and fall before he could even get onto one knee.

"Let's go. I'll give you some help."

The next thing he knew, they were in front of the sealed chamber once again, and the ugly blue crown was in Misery's hands. It sported a new feature: a large, ovular, orange eye with a black circle for a pupil, embedded in the front.

"This is the Demon Crown," she said in a voice not unlike a purr. "And with it, I'll be stronger than _anyone._ "

Cthulhu was helpless in his new reptilian body to stop her. She gingerly placed the artifact onto her head, her triumphant sneer only faltering once it was secure. Within seconds she began to convulse, frantically trying to pull the Demon Crown off.

"YOU… DESIRE… FURTHER CHAOS…"

The voice was that of his father, he could tell immediately. Misery was screeching in pain from whatever her newfound treasure was doing to her, so whether she was paying attention wasn't clear.

"THIS CROWN… YOU CANNOT WEAR… SO LONG AS IT EXISTS, YOU WILL BE BOUND TO ITS BEARER'S WILL…"

His eyes widened. He couldn't defeat Misery, but had he occupied her long enough for his deteriorating father to place a curse on it? Cthulhu wanted to speak, to call out, but his new tongue refused to cooperate.

The Demon Crown finally wrenched itself free of his cousin's head, and the eye swiveled where it sat to stare at her comatose form as she crumpled to the floor. A second later, the artifact vanished into thin air, taking her with it.

Cthulhu, eventually managing to pull himself upright, would escape from the depths of the island and go into exile. The change in his body, and the isolation following it, would wreak havoc on his psyche in the years to come. He no longer cared about art, or preserving the lives of the innocent, or appeasing his Auntie Jenka. No more. His only driving force was vengeance for his mother by way of bringing the mad mage Ballos' life to an end, and should the opportunity arise, avenging himself upon his despicable cousin.

He was born anew, but could not say he was truly alive.

* * *

 _Many years later..._

The Doctor was dead. Ballos was dead, and with him the Demon Crown was also gone. Over a thousand years of enslavement for Misery, over. And now she didn't know what to do with herself. What _could_ she do? Balrog was the only person who really trusted her, but he lived with the three robots now and she didn't want to risk intruding on their new life together. The Sakamotos continued to visit the island, and every time they did she made sure to stay far out of their way. She suspected she was the last person that family wanted to see.

Family…

On one of her many aimless strolls across the island's surface, she somehow found herself at a place she hadn't been to in more years than she could count: the place her home once stood, where she'd lived with her mother and father (for the brief time she knew him). It had long since been covered by a totally nondescript grassy field, effectively removing any traces of her old life. She knew that the remains of her aunt and uncle's home, wherever they were, had also been swallowed up by the passage of time.

Her mother lived in the Sand Zone in the company of five puppies, content on not returning to the surface in her old age. Without the threat of Ballos, she had nothing to worry about for the remainder of her life. Misery supposed _she_ didn't either, but she found any enjoyment in the notion hollow.

Cthulhu, true to his nature, hadn't shown himself to her since the aftermath of the Doctor's defeat. She could have easily changed him back to his old form, yet he had refused the offer and never crossed her path again. Where he was now, she could only speculate. All she knew was that he, like her mother, was unlikely to make any effort to contact her ever again.

As she stood in the center of where her house's foundation once sat, she felt a sting in her eyes. The place was nothing more than a reminder of the life she hadn't fully appreciated when she had the chance, snatched away from her twofold. First by resentful humans, second by her burning bridges with what little family she'd been left with.

For the first time in many, many years, Misery began to cry.


	5. Alone, Together

**Alone, Together**

Summary: In the aftermath of the Doctor's defeat, one particular Mimiga still has trouble coping with what he took from her.

This one's short, but it's been a long time since I posted anything here and I wanted to get something out.

* * *

"Hey, Colons! C'mere! We need to ask you something!"

Mira's ears perked up at the sound of Curly's voice. She relayed the call to her other friends, in the midst of an impromptu game of tag where Balrog had proven to be a faster runner than expected. They all trotted back to the base camp, curious as to what they were needed for.

Curly was standing with Mister Quote- Mira still had trouble thinking of him as anything else- and the third, blocky robot who'd become her friend at some point. The three had gathered around a makeshift workbench set up just in front of the pair of tents, apparently mulling over the blueprints for their future house.

"We're figuring out where each of our rooms will be," Curly said. "You wouldn't want to be crammed in the same place again, right? We probably can't give you all individual bedrooms, but we might be able to fit two of you each into one so everyone can have more space. How's that sound?"

Mira turned to the other Colons, each of whom bore a similar hesitant expression to her own.

They didn't have to say anything to understand their shared mindset. It was Sammy, the oldest (though barely by a week), who gave Curly an answer.

"We… um, we don't want separate rooms. We wanna stay together."

As expected, that answer elicited looks of varying confusion.

" **Available space or resources aren't a concern,"** said the blocky robot. " **We're certainly capable of providing you with a pair of double bedrooms. Wouldn't you prefer that to your previous living conditions?"**

Mira took a step forward, drawing all eyes to her, and reflexively stepped back. She awkwardly tapped her paws together before forming a response.

"I-I guess we're just used to it. We've always stayed with each other, no matter how much space we had. Even before we met you, Curly!"

She almost instantly shut herself up afterwards. There was only one event of note before they first met the robot around a month earlier, and Mira didn't want to think about it. Her discomfort didn't go unnoticed, judging by the abrupt silence that fell over the group. The blocky robot eventually broke the silence.

" **If you insist; I'm sure we could put the extra space to some other use. Or, better yet, we could increase the size of your bedroom to accommodate four residents. As long as this is what you all want, at any rate. That will be all for now, thank you."**

Mira received a quick tap on the shoulder from Vivi and realized she was It. The other Colons and Balrog darted away from her while the blocky robot and Curly turned back to the blueprints. Right before she returned to chasing her friends, for just a moment she saw Mister Quote giving her an odd look. She didn't stick around, suddenly wanting to get as far away from that discussion as possible.

* * *

Weeks passed. Their house came together nicely, thanks in no small part to the structural expertise of Malco, that chatty, blocky robot who'd shared a tent with the Colons beforehand. Mira and her friends had been given a room for the four of them, as requested, wherein they pushed all of their new beds against one another. Curly vocally found the idea adorable and didn't seem to further question them wanting to stay together. Even Sammy, Vivi, and Nicky hadn't brought mention to _why_ they all preferred sharing space again. After the chaos and tension of the Doctor's reign, things seemed to _finally_ be settling down for everyone.

But moving on didn't come so easily for Mira. As she lay on her portion of the bed, the others having darted out at the call for lunch, she rolled onto her stomach with a barely audible sigh. She wished she would have left with them, as she'd always hated being alone the most, but for some reason she couldn't seem to find the motivation to get up.

No, not for "some reason." She was actively forcing herself not to think about what sent her on the path to where she was in the first place.

Being there, in a new house with a new family, was of course wonderful for her, but it also dug up painful memories she'd done her best to fight down. Memories from just two years earlier, when her _first_ family had been lost. It was all so vivid… the other Colons had their families taken away too, but Mira's situation was different. She'd seen it happen.

* * *

 _The last time she laid eyes on her parents had been moments before they were completely swallowed up by a blinding ray of red light. Behind them, there was a tall human man in a white coat and a crude blue helmet. He'd asked about red flowers, and when he didn't get an answer he'd lashed out. The Doctor had turned his attention to Mira, but didn't kill her. As she stood there, so thoroughly petrified she couldn't even bring herself to scream after the deaths of her loved ones, the Doctor just smiled and spoke very quietly._

" _Shush, shush, shush… don't fret, little one. Am I correct to assume you also know nothing about the flowers I seek? It would be a terrible waste to get rid of you, when you're still so young. Run along, now. Go wherever you choose, and one day I'll have a better use for you."_

* * *

Footsteps at the doorway. She snapped her teary-eyed gaze up to see Quote standing there, his expression unreadable as usual.

"…lunch is ready," he said.

Mira opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything. She just stared back to her pillow, trying to keep herself composed.

The bed creaked, and she looked up again to see Quote had taken a seat on it beside her. He, too, was silent.

"I'm… sorry if I'm worrying you," Mira somehow choked out. "I-I just… can't forget what happened to my family. To _all_ our families… and we can't sleep without each other, not after what the Doctor did!"

* * *

 _The four Mimiga children found each other in a desolate corner of the Sand Zone. It was Mira who'd attracted them there to begin with, mostly due to her sobbing. When the Doctor left, and there wasn't so much as a speck of ash left behind by her parents, nothing was stopping her from completely breaking down. She was alone, and she was terrified. They all were. But she, who had apparently come closer to the crowned monster than any of the others, was in such a state that she had to be carried to safety by her kin. They took shelter in a rusted-out bar, the only place they could possibly stay in, and waited for nothing in particular. Days came and went, but nobody ever came to look for them. Their only company was each other, and the nightmares looming over them all. Mira in particular only ever saw the shine of a pair of glasses in her sleep, followed by a red flash._

 _The only way any of the kids could possibly rest without torment was by huddling together as close as they could. It wasn't much in the way of helping them recover, but at least it made them feel less soul-crushingly alone. Four sad, scared little Mimiga children hid there with nothing but each other for over a year until, one day, they found someone new in their midst…_

* * *

It took a moment for Mira to realize she was crying. It took her another to realize she wasn't laying on the bed anymore. Quote had lifted her into his lap, leaning her face against his chest while she bawled uncontrollably. He clearly wasn't sure what he was doing, judging by his rather stiff and tense posture, but it was enough for her. She clutched his shirt, trembling and gasping with every sob as all of the pain she'd tried to shove aside broke loose.

She felt a hand lightly rub against her back, and officially lost any scrap of composure she had left.

* * *

Curly had waited long enough. She walked upstairs to the room the Colons shared, the Mimiga themselves hot on her heels. It seemed they were just as curious about what was taking Mira and Quote as she was. She entered the room and froze at the sight before her, so convinced she was imagining things that she nearly stepped out altogether.

Quote was on the bed, Mira clutched protectively in his arms while she quietly whimpered. He would pet her at slow intervals- a rather uncertain pet thanks to his inexperience, but nevertheless a pet. How long they'd been like that, Curly didn't ask. She just looked to Quote, who gave her a short nod to come closer.

"Mira?" she asked, kneeling beside them. "Are you okay?"

The girl didn't respond. As the rest of the Colons gathered round, she just held her arms out for everyone to hug her. Mira's eyes still shone with tears, but there was unmistakably a very small smile behind them.


End file.
